Bay Rum
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Baron Samedi Perfume Oil
Select OptionsA notorious voodoo priest, who eventually rose to become one of the funereal Guédés, alongside Baron Cimitère and Baron La Croix. He is a Guardian of the Crossroads: the pathways between our world and the realm of the spirits. As a Master of the Graveyard, he ensures that burial rites are performed with skill, and he helps ferry souls to the dark realm.
In his honor, we have created this scent: our spin on traditional Bay Rum.
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Blue Ghost Blues Perfume Oil
Out of StockI feel myself sinkin’ down
I feel myself sinkin’ down
My body is freezin’
I feel something cold creepin’ aroundMy windows is rattlin’
My doorknob turnin’ round an’ round
My windows is rattlin’
My doorknob turnin’ round an’ round
This haunted house blues is killin’ me
I feel myself sinkin’ downI been fastin’ in this haunted house
Six long months today
I been fastin’ in this haunted house
Six long months today
The Blue Ghost is got the house surrounded, Lord
And I can’t get awayThey got shotguns and pistols
Standin’ all round my door
They got shotguns and pistols
Standin’ all round my door
They haunt me all night long
So I can’t sleep no moreThe Blue Ghost haunts me all night
The nightmare rides me all night long
The Blue Ghost haunts me at night
The nightmare rides me all night long
They worry me so in this haunted house
I wished I was dead and gone
– Lonnie JohnsonA ward against evil: bay rum, whiskey, cigar smoke, black pepper, and salt.
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Bobbing for Daddy Perfume Oil
Out of StockThe following contest is scheduled for one fall. Get it? Fall! Our ongoing collaboration with the pro-wrestler EFFY has taken a decidedly seasonal turn, conjuring fantasies of apple picking, polishing, nibbling, and even a bit of juicing if the mood is right. Blended together with DADDY’s signature notes of diabolical incense, bay rum and a hiss of infernal fougere, this is one hayride you won’t want to miss.
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Daddy by EFFY Beard Oil
Add to cartNot all daddies have beards, and not all beards belong to daddies! That’s why EFFY’s unisex fragrance DADDY by EFFY is now available as a perfume blend and a beard oil, to make sure your bases are covered. (Note: do not apply to your third base area! Face-beards only, por favor.)
The scent is the same! A roll in the hay with a sexy demon daddy: a diabolical incense with a splash of bay rum and a hiss of infernal fougere.
Label photo credit: Jordan Nachole Hall
The accompanying perfume oil can be found here.
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Daddy by EFFY Perfume Oil
Add to cartDADDY isn’t defined by gender: it IS a gender, and it’s anyone’s to try on. It takes all kinds — masc daddies, lady daddies, queer daddies, punk daddies, muscle daddies, soft daddies, big daddies, baby daddies, noncorporeal daddies.
Subtle differences in skin chemistry ensure that no two people will wear DADDY quite the same way; this power is yours to wield as you see fit. No leather jacket, no fishnets, no problem! (But if you want ’em, we know a guy.)
A roll in the hay with a sexy demon daddy: a diabolical incense with a splash of bay rum and a hiss of infernal fougere. Congrats, you’re a DADDY now too!
Label photo credit: Jordan Nachole Hall
The accompanying beard oil can be found here.
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Frederic Perfume Oil
Out of StockFor some ridiculous reason, to which, however, I’ve no desire to be disloyal,
Some person in authority, I don’t know who, very likely the Astronomer Royal,
Has decided that, although for such a beastly month as February, twenty-eight days as a rule are plenty,
One year in every four his days shall be reckoned as nine and twenty.
Through some singular coincidence – I shouldn’t be surprised if it were owing to the
agency of an ill-natured fairy –
You are the victim of this clumsy arrangement, having been born in leap-year, on the
twenty-ninth of February;
And so, by a simple arithmetical process, you’ll easily discover,
That though you’ve lived twenty-one years, yet, if we go by birthdays,you’re only five
and a little bit over!Alas, poor Frederic the Leapling! — bound to the merry Pirates of Penzance until his twenty-first birthday.
As his birthday comes around only every four years, so does his scent!
Victorian whimsy and piratical romance: a reluctant seaman’s chypre sloshed with a mix of bay rum, patchouli, amber musk, dark woods, tea rose, and red currant.
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Half-Human, Half-Monkey Barbers Shaving a Goat Perfume Oil
Out of StockEngraving by G. van der Gucht after J. Wootton
Bay rum, hay, dried alfalfa, aftershave, and cork stalk.
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I Die of Love Perfume Oil
Out of StockI die of love for him, perfect in every way,
Lost in the strains of wafting music.
My eyes are fixed upon his delightful body
And I do not wonder at his beauty.
His waist is a sapling, his face a moon,
And loveliness rolls off his rosy cheek
I die of love for you, but keep this secret:
The tie that binds us is an unbreakable rope.
How much time did your creation take, O angel?
So what! All I want is to sing your praises.
– Abu NuwasBalsam-dusted leather, crushed lilac, bay rum, soft black musk, cubeb berry, and smoke.
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Isaac, The Living Skeleton Perfume Oil
Add to cartTo your side, you hear a man’s deep whisper, “Slowly I turned… inch by inch… step by step….” A scream interrupts him, and a roar of laughter pulses through the shadowed hall. Following the commotion, you move to the next stage. A bone-thin man moves across the stage, and sits upon an overstuffed, threadbare armchair. A battered violin is propped against the chair’s side. The audience starts to dissipate, and you realize that you must have just missed his performance. Relaxing, he reclines lazily, and as the light falls on his face, you come to realize that he is truly skeletal: a thin membrane of skin covers most of his body, but in many places, bone is completely exposed. He winks at you, and chuckles at your obvious discomfiture. The sweet smoke from his cigar touches your senses, and you hear the soft clink of the ice as he swirls the bourbon in his tumbler.
“Late for the show, are ya, friend? I’ll tell you a quick one, and then you’d best skedaddle. I have better things to do than sit here and be gawked at all night.” He takes a swig from his tumbler.
“A man goes to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist says, ‘I think you’re crazy.’ The man says, ‘I want a second opinion.’ The psychiatrist shrugs and says, ‘Alright, you’re ugly, too.’”
His attention is diverted by a scantily clad woman in the audience beside you, and he leers at her. “Hello, nurse!” he growls, and leans towards her lecherously. “How’s about you come back to my dressing room, and I show you my stamp collection?”
Bourbon, black tobacco tar, dry bone, bay rum aftershave, and sleazy cologne.
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Jazz Funeral Perfume Oil
Select OptionsConsidered a great honor, this is one of the most distinguished aspects of New Orleans culture. Its roots lie in the customs of the Dahomeans and Yoruba people, and is a celebration of both the person’s life and the beauty and solemnity of their death. The procession is lead by the Grand Marshal, resplendent in his black tuxedo, white gloves and black hat in hand; almost a vision of the great Baron Samedi himself. The music begins with solemn, tolling dirges, moves into hymns of sorrow, loss and redemption. When the burial site is reached, a two-note preparatory riff is sounded, and the drummers start the second-line beat, heralding the switch in music to joyous, upbeat songs, dancing, and the unfurling of richly decorated umbrellas by the ‘second line’ friends, family, loved ones and stray celebrants. Strutting, bouncing, and festive dance accompanies the upbeat ragtime music that sends the departed soul onto its next journey.
Didn’t he ramble
… he rambled
Rambled all around
… in and out of town
Didn’t he ramble
… didn’t he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down.His feet was in the market place
his head was in the street
Lady pass him by, said
look at the market meat
He grabbed her pocket book
and said I wish you well
She pulled out a forty-five
said I’m head of personnel.Didn’t he ramble
… he rambled
Rambled all around
… in and out of town
Didn’t he ramble
… didn’t he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down.He slipped into the cat house
made love to the stable
Madam caught him cold
said I’ll pay you when I be able
Six months had passed
and she stood all she could stand
She said buddy when I’m through with you
Ole groundhog gonna be shakin yo’ hand.Didn’t he ramble
… he rambled
Rambled all around
… in and out of town
Didn’t he ramble
… didn’t he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down.I said he rambled
lord
… ’till the butcher shot him down.Bittersweet bay rum, bourbon, and a host of funeral flowers with a touch of graveyard dirt, magnolia and Spanish Moss.
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Jolly Roger Beard Oil
Add to cartSea spray with an undercurrent of leather, Bay Rum, and salty, dry woods.
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Knucklebones Perfume Oil
Add to cartYou hear a clatter on the ground behind you, and a small bleached bone smacks against your foot. Cloaked in shadows between the tents, three men crouch playing knucklebones. Distress clouds the face of one of the men, while another bursts into a wicked smile and the last one sighs in relief. Scooping up his winnings and shaking his head, the victor makes a soft ‘tsk’ noise as he reaches towards the loser’s chest, positioning his hand over the man’s heart. Pressing forward, his hand moves through cloth, flesh, muscle, and bone to extract the beating organ. Tossing the heart onto the ground, he says to you, “Mind handing me those bones, buddy? I’ve got a game to run here.”
Black musk, bay rum, lime fougere, orange blossom water, gin, and tobacco.
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Let America Be America Again Perfume Oil
Add to cartLet America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed-
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean-
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today-O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home-
For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a “homeland of the free.”The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay-
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.O, let America be America again-
The land that never has been yet-
And yet must be-the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine-the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME-
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.Sure, call me any ugly name you choose-
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath-
America will be!Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain-
All, all the stretch of these great green states-
And make America again!
– Langston HughesO, let America be America again – the land that never has been yet: waving green grasses, purple-hued amber, smoked sandalwood, bay rum, clove bud, cardamom, and black pepper.
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Mr. Nancy Perfume Oil
Add to cartBefore Fat Charlie’s father had come into the bar, the barman had been of the opinion that the whole karaoke evening was going to be an utter bust; but then the little old man had sashayed into the room, walked past the table of several blonde women with the fresh sunburns and smiles of tourists…He had tipped his hat to them, for he wore a hat, a spotless green fedora, and lemon-yellow gloves, and then he walked over to their table. They giggled….He was older than they were, much, much older; but he was charm itself, like something from a bygone age when fine manners and courtly gestures were worth something. The barman relaxed. With someone like this in the bar, it was going to be a good evening.
Sugar cookies with bay rum, tobacco, and lime.
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Peach-Kissed Daddy Perfume Oil
Out of StockDaddy buns drenched in summer sun! We’ve added a generous pinch of peach pulp to original EFFY fragrance collaboration – a diabolical incense with a splash of bay rum and a hiss of infernal fougere.
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Santo Domingo Perfume Oil
Select OptionsAn exotic, sultry blend of tobacco leaf, bay rum and heady Caribbean blossoms.
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The Marquis De Carabas Perfume Oil
Add to cartHe wore a huge dandyish black coat that was not quite a frock coat nor exactly a trench coat, and high black boots, and, beneath his coat, raggedy clothes. His eyes burned white in an extremely dark face. And he grinned whie teeth, momentarily, as if at a private joke of his own, and bowed to Richard, and said, “De Carabas, at your service, and you are…?”
A splash of bay rum, leather, dusty black wool, massoia bark, and opium residue.
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The Mysterious Rappings Polka Perfume Oil
Out of StockAs performed by Griffiths Quadrille Band in a Mysteriously Effective Manner and Dedicated to all Lovers of “the Mysterious”.
It really was a thing. Rose musk with pink and black pepper, a splash of bay rum, tobacco absolute, and toffee.
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The Naturally Possible and Impossible Perfume Oil
Out of StockThis has occurred in my presence on four occasions in darkness. The test conditions under which they took place were quite satisfactory, so far as the judgment was concerned; but ocular demonstration of such a fact is so necessary to disturb our pre-formed opinions as to “the naturally possible and impossible,” that I will here only mention cases in which the deductions of reason were confirmed by the sense of sight.
On one occasion I witnessed a chair, with a lady sitting on it, rise several inches from the ground. On another occasion, to avoid the suspicion of this being in some way performed by herself, the lady knelt on the chair in such a manner that its four feet were visible to us. It then rose about three inches, remained suspended for about ten seconds, and then slowly descended. At another time two children, on separate occasions, rose from the floor with their chairs, in full daylight, under (to me) most satisfactory conditions; for I was kneeling and keeping close watch upon the feet of the chair, and observing that no one might touch them.
The most striking cases of levitation which I have witnessed have been with Mr. Home, on three separate occasions have I seen him raised completely from the floor of the room. Once sitting in an easy chair, once kneeling on his chair, and once standing up. On each occasion I had full opportunity of watching the occurrence as it was taking place.
There are at least a hundred recorded instances of Mr. Home’s rising from the ground, in the presence of as many separate persons, and I have heard from the lips of the three witnesses to the most striking occurrence of this kind – the Earl of Dunraven, Lord Lindsay, and Captain C. Wynne – their own most minute accounts of what took place. To reject the recorded evidence on this subject is to reject all human testimony whatever; for no fact in sacred or profane history is supported by a stronger array of proofs
The accumulated testimony establishing Mr. Homes levitations is overwhelming. It is greatly to be desired that some person, whose evidence would be accepted as conclusive by the scientific world – if indeed there lives a person whose testimony in favour of such phenomena would be taken – would seriously and patiently examine the alleged facts. Most of the eyewitnesses to these levitations are now living, and would, doubtless, be willing to give their evidence. But, in a few years, such direct evidence will be difficult, if not impossible, to be obtained.
– Notes of an Enquiry into the Phenomena called Spiritual during the years 1870-1873, William Crookes
Well-worn leather, bay rum, vetiver, cigar smoke, and amber oudh.
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Trevor Bruttenholm Perfume Oil
Add to cartA classic men’s cologne mixed with the scent of old, yellowed books, a splash of bay rum, and summoning incense.